


March 15: Everything You Think Is Wrong Day

by ScarletTyler



Series: You & I [1]
Category: Actor RPF, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Sharing Clothes, Transgender, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-25 02:03:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6175981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletTyler/pseuds/ScarletTyler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She has turned him down once, even though he seemed to be the perfect guy for her.<br/>He is waiting for the right timing again, but she seems happy just the way they are.</p><p>Can this be the day Callee and Richard realize how they got it all wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Callee

**Author's Note:**

> LP for this fic is Callee (or Calpernia), a college student who's in the middle of transitioning, similar to the Soldier's Girl movie. Totally retconned her backstory though because this is an AU and not a canon-compliant fic. Also, I have used female pronouns (for obvious reasons), so if this is not your thing, then please move along to the other LP/RA fics.
> 
> In case you're wondering, Everything You Think Is Wrong Day is a real-life holiday and not just a fabrication of my imagination. The rest of the story, however, is pure fiction.

Callee drags herself out of the bed, stretching and yawning as she tries to shake away the remaining dregs of sleep. It's not enough, however. What she needs right now is coffee. Tongue-burning and milky sweet.

Making her way to the kitchen on her fluffy slippers, she rubs her arms up and down for warmth as she examines her breath for tiny clouds of condensation. Spring has already come, but the morning chill hasn't relented yet despite the weather reports. She could have turned on the heater, but they are saving up on the utilities for their trip on Spring Break. Committed to actually making it to New Zealand this year, she picks up Richard's cardigan from the couch instead—the fuzzy, brown heavy knit that never fails to make her feel all snug and cozy. She slips it on over her pink cotton nightie, pulling down the sleeves to cover her hands, even though he would no doubt complain that she had stretched it again. They have bickered about this before, but she maintains that the cardigan has been this way since he first bought it at a charity shop. Besides, he can't really blame her for having longer arms than him. He may not admit it to others, but she knows Richard is a bit sensitive over their three-inch height difference. One inch, he would always insist, but that only earns him a roll of her eyes and a fond, knowing grin. 

Callee picks up her old but trusty laptop from the coffee table and sets it down on the kitchen counter, powering it up while doing so. The harsh screen light greets her, making her squint as she opens a browser window. Richard has released his latest podcast episode last night, but she has missed it due to all the essays she had to finish quickly to meet the deadline. The website loads and she easily spots the most recent link, having been an avid listener of Brain On Fire since episode one. Each installment is an odd combination of strange facts, quiz game and banter that easily flows among its three hosts. Needless to say, she is hooked even without much convincing from their friends.

Clicking on the play button, Callee rests her chin on her propped up arm and waits for the intro jingle to start. Podcasting is one of Richard's hobbies that he shares with Aidan and Dean—two of their closest friends here in the university. Hobby is an understatement, however, since Brain On Fire has gotten a sizeable following after Aidan got the brilliant idea to put up a website with their handsome, smiling faces plastered on its homepage. Not that they are all form and no substance. It's just that their concept is sometimes too eccentric or too niche for it to go mainstream without any form of marketing to support them.

When the upbeat music is over, Richard does the introductions as usual, in his deep, velvety, baritone voice. Of course, she has heard this spiel for so many times now, but it continues to mystify her how his voice can always make her go warm and gooey inside. There is no rhyme or reason for this, so it remains to be one of those things that blurs the line of their relationship.

Still, Callee reminds herself that she has already missed her chance to be with Richard. Figuring things out between them is as useless as beating a dead horse at this point. A small, niggling voice inside her bristles at this thought, but she is in no mood to argue with herself again over something that has no definite answer. So, she decides to brew her coffee instead while trying to keep most of her attention to the podcast.

"Before we get on with our main story for tonight, here's a little something for everybody. Our top ten March fun facts, compiled by yours truly," Aidan announces, charming as always, in a boyish sort of way. 

This brings up the memories of how Callee met these three guys over a year ago—a quiz night at the local bar where she used to moonlight as a waitress. It was a tradition at The Prancing Pony to hold such events since most of its patrons were either students or professors from the nearby universities. She had never paid much attention to this game, but that particular night drew her attention when one team had been practically dominating all the other groups.

That was the first time she had set eyes on Richard, Aidan and Dean—all cocky grins and laid-back confidence. Not that she knew their names at the time. To her, they were just a group of college boys who also happened to be the most striking trio of the lot, each one attractive in their own right. Callee had tried to sneak some appreciative glances at them as she served drinks around, looking away quickly however, when anyone from their little group turned to her general direction.

It wasn't long before some guy from a losing team protested about the trio's seemingly impossible winning streak. However, rules are rules, and by the end of the game, their group had taken home the cash prize amidst the glares from some of the participants. She was occupied with clearing out the used glasses so she didn't notice her best friend coming up beside her with a frown.

"The nerve of these guys," Evie muttered, eyes narrowing at Dean, who was busy counting their winnings.

Callee lifted an eyebrow in question, clueless about her friend's reaction.

"Hustlers."

"Wait, what? How can you even hustle at this sort of thing?"

"They're Lit majors, same as me. And the tall guy in the black shirt, that's Richard Armitage. _Biggest_ trivia buff I've ever known. Ask him about Tolkien, and he's going to spew all sorts of things that Tolkien himself probably doesn't even recall writing." 

"Well, why didn't you say something? No wonder they got that question right."

"Callee... Callee... Babe," Evie said with a condescending expression that spoiled her lovely features. "Watch and learn," she added with a wink.

Sashaying, Evie barged in to the trio with disarming grin she had long perfected. Callee couldn't hear them from where she was standing, but the group's high spirits turned to alarmed within seconds into speaking with her friend. She's probably blackmailing them, Callee thought with a tinge of secondhand embarrassment for them.

Her friend then gestured back to her direction, prompting the guys to shift their gaze to her momentarily. She offered them a friendly smile, hoping to balance out whatever crap Evie is doling out to them. Richard just gaped at her, however, before turning his attention back to Aidan, who seemed to be bouncing with excitement again.

It wasn't long before Evie walked away from them with a smug grin on her face. "They're splitting me a cut from the winnings," she whispered, her sly eyes shining with pride over her success. "Wanna go out later? It's on them."

With no other plans for the night, Callee agreed with shrug of her shoulders, trying to mask the sudden thrill she felt over the possibility of making some new friends from a different college than hers. It's in her nature to enjoy a wide diversity in her social circle, but working part-time had prevented her from going out as much as she would've wanted.

When their shift ended, Evie dragged her outside to meet up with the guys. "This is Aidan, Dean, and Richard," Evie helpfully pointed out for her in a rush of words. "Dorks, this is my best friend, Calpernia. She's too amazing for any of you, so don't even try."  
  
"Nice to meet y'all. You can just call me Callee, by the way."

"Calpurnia's a great name though," Richard argued good-naturedly. "You share it with Caesar's wife who had prophetic dreams about his assassination, and the highly regarded cook of the Finches in To Kill A Mocking Bird—just to name a few.

Before she could respond, Evie nudged her on the side with an elbow. "See what I told you? And that's just the preview."

Richard opened his mouth to protest, but Aidan spoke first, urging the group to get going if they wanted to make the most of the night. They ended up at a nearby club—the one with bright, multicolored lights, loud remixed versions of pop music, and sweaty people grinding up on each other.

Settling down on a booth, Callee was pleased to observe that despite being extorted for money by her best friend, the trio were still as friendly and fun as they seemed to be back at The Prancing Pony. After finishing their second round of drinks, Evie disappeared into the dance floor with Aidan, while Dean decided to try his luck and hook up with someone by the bar.

Meanwhile, Richard hadn't talked much to anyone but Callee for most of the night, and she thought it felt strange to have all that attention directed at her. The good kind of strange though. The kind that gave her butterflies whenever their knees touched under the table. He also had such an intense gaze that it made her head feel a little woozy from just staring back at his gorgeous blue eyes. 

When she couldn't handle it any longer, Callee invited him to dance instead, hoping that constant movement would keep her sane and in control. She had never been more wrong in her life because Richard was a fantastic dancer and the song had the perfect rhythm for her to be swayed into losing herself to him a little more. Soon, the crowd's energy turned the room into a furnace of synth beats and undulating hips. Sweat ran down her spine when their bodies collided and his arms went around her waist to keep her steady. In the heat of the moment, she would have let him kiss her, but Aidan suddenly crashed into them, dragging along a red-faced Evie.

"We're starving! C'mon, let's get out of here," Aidan shouted over the music.

Fortunately, they didn't have to go far, spotting a pretzel stand just a block away from the club. Sitting on the nearby benches, Richard monopolized her again, which warranted no protest from the other pair. 

There was that feeling again, and she just went with it as they talked about each other's confusion about what to do with their lives after college. He had too many opportunities, but she had too few. It would seem like this would be the divide that could break the spell, but that moment right there felt so right. When Richard took her hands between his to keep her warm, the small part of her that had been trying to tell her something all night couldn't be ignored anymore. It was as if her soul had finally recognized him and said, _'Oh, there you are. I've been looking for you.'_

That night had been perfect in a totally unexpected way, but when he invited her back to his apartment, she declined with a guilty look on her face. She's with Barry, her boyfriend since high school. She couldn't do that to him, although to be honest, her answer wasn't as ready and definite as it should have been. She even gave Richard her number before they parted ways, which seemed to have lessened the sting of her rejection, judging from the way his eyes brightened up.

He called her the next day and asked if she wanted to hang out at the new library-turned-coffee shop at the Fifth.  After a brief moment of consideration, she agreed, and they hadn't stopped since then. She never said no, so he would always ask her. Art galleries, nature parks, underground clubs, and one time, a private observatory that took their shared love for stargazing to the next level. Soulmates or not, there had been this unspoken agreement between them to just keep it friendly from then on, never going beyond despite the way her heart stuttered from the sound of Richard's laughter. 

Then, six months ago, Evie moved out of their shared apartment, leaving her to move in with Aidan. The unlikely pair had been together since that night, so it was not really spur-of-the-moment thing for them. Callee had very little option, however. The campus dorms were out of the question, and she didn't want to give up the apartment entirely. Barry couldn't move in with her, given that he was not yet done with his training at the military.

It was Dean who came up with a solution, claiming that when Evie moves in with them, they would be one person over their landlord's limit. Aidan and Dean volunteered Richard, who didn't even protest for being evicted from his own apartment. And that was it. Boxes after boxes, he transferred everything he owned to Callee's, and her stomach did a strange little flip when she saw his toothbrush next to hers.

Dean's enthusiastic voice brings her back to the present. "It's common knowledge that tomorrow is the Ides of March, but that's so boring compared to the other holiday that we should all be celebrating instead. The Everything You Think Is Wrong Day! Sounds depressing? A bit, yeah. But, there's so much more to it than learning you've been pronouncing 'bagels' wrong all this time."

That's today, Callee realizes. Her interest is piqued by such an odd holiday. Hearing stuff like this is why she listens to their podcast. There is always something new to learn, such as practical life hacks or useless bits of trivia like this one.

"Let's look at it as a reminder that we can’t always be certain about what we know," Richard says, taking over the explanation. "That there's always a room for error no matter how careful we've been. For instance, you thought you've set the alarm on last night, but when you wake up, you're already half an hour late for your mid-terms."

"That's actually based on a true story," Aidan cuts in with a snicker.

Callee giggles as she remembers that particular incident in great detail. She had fallen asleep while cramming for her tests, but she had been pretty sure her phone's alarm was set to wake her up in time the next morning. It wasn’t, and her whole day after that was a total disaster. In recompense for something he thought he could've prevented from happening, Richard bought her a classic alarm clock—the one with the shiny, silver bells on top—that could wake up the whole neighborhood with its loud, shrill ringing. To this day, she has never missed an early morning class again, but Richard has taken into calling it as 'that bloody clock' because it never fails to wake him up as well.

Chuckling at his friend's side-comment, Richard continues, "Shout out to our lovely friend, who's currently slaving over her essays when this episode airs. Finish them all tonight, or you'll get rained on with F's because, if you've been listening, all your ideas tomorrow would be wrong by default."

Callee rolls her eyes from this exaggeration, but she feels inordinately proud with herself for actually completing the said essays in time for this holiday. The coffeemaker stops making its gurgling noises, prompting her to leave the counter and get out her mug from the cupboard. 

"Also, I wanna add this piece of advice that I got from someone who shall remain unnamed. You know who you are," Dean says lightheartedly before continuing in a more serious tone, "Don't beat yourself up when you're wrong about something, may it be trivial or life-altering. Mistakes are perfectly natural, and nobody is infallible. Not even your favorite superhero. What would make you cooler though is acknowledging that you're wrong, taking responsibility for it, and then making an effort to correct things."

Aidan agrees with him, sharing another personal anecdote to add to his point. "So, to all our listeners, go on and share with us your moments when you thought wrong, and it blew up on your face. Just remember to use #EverythingYouThinkIsWrongDay. Funny, sad, or crazy—we'll take it. The best ones will get some air time on our next episode and an awesome giveaway, of course."

While listening, Callee pours out coffee to her mug, savoring the rich aroma and hot steam of her beverage. This is one of the luxuries she still allows herself—the organically grown coffee beans that they've gotten from the farmer's market last month. Reaching in for the milk inside the fridge, she frowns upon reading a yellow note taped on its side.

 

**Forgot to buy more. Sorry.**

**-R xx**

 

They have been sharing an apartment for six months now, and since they are frequently buried under school work, a system is in place to keep things from falling apart. Case in point, whoever finishes the goddamn milk should have the decency to replace it before the day ends. This is completely unacceptable, Callee decides, pausing the podcast for a moment. She grabs her phone, fires up Twitter, and takes a photo of the note. Biting her lower lip in concentration, she makes sure to get the tags right before posting it with the attached image.

 

 **Callee Pace** @calpernia

 **@BrainOnFire Thought I've found the perfect roommate. SMH. Honeymoon is over, apparently.  #gotmilk #everythingyouthinkiswrongday**  
8:20 AM · 15 Mar 14

  

She is not mad, really. It's just annoying her more than usual since her mornings are absolute shit without a cup or two. She sets aside the mug for reheating later and then resumes the podcast. Perching with her legs up on a chair by the window, she pulls the cardigan over her knees, gazing out while listening to the three of them drone on further about the quirky March holidays.

"There's a silver lining to this kinda bleak holiday. On March 16—that's on Sunday—we all get to have the 'Everything You Do Is Right Day', which frankly speaking, is the best time to cross out some items from your bucket list. Just remember to keep it reasonable, since it's not Everything You Do Is Legal Day. I repeat…"

She stays on her seat for the rest of the podcast, losing track of what they are talking about when she zones out, now and then, with a dreamy look on her face. Richard's voice has all sorts of power over her, and right now, his cadence is lulling her back to sleep. 

By the end of it, Callee is feeling boneless and groggy, more so than when she had just woken up. She doesn't have anywhere to go until lunch anyway, so she maintains her sleepiness, feeding it with slow blinks and yawns. There is no point in staying up this early, she eventually decides, not without her steaming hot latte.

Shutting down her laptop, she walks back to her room, but hesitates in front of Richard's door. He knows how much she needs her morning coffee, and it only seems fair to make him pay for his carelessness.

They have done it before, sleeping together. _Sleeping_ sleeping, and not the other kind. Richard knows that she is a transgender woman who is in the middle of transitioning. After all, she still bears some tell-tale signs of being Lee Pace up to her early teenage years. He has known right from the very start, but never brought it up until they were faced with a chance to clear the air.

A week after moving in, he happened upon Callee's hormone injections by accident. Despite the initial awkwardness of learning something so intimate to her, he had a much better reaction over this compared to some of her friends. They talked about it into the night, and Callee surprised herself for being able to disclose such personal details to him. Some people had thought of her differently upon knowing this side of her. They had scrutinized her every move, talked about her 'choices' behind her back, and even excluded her socially despite promising acceptance and understanding.

He comforted her with a hug when she told him of those dark, confusing moments back in high school, when she thought that there's no one else to turn to but herself. She didn't pull back from his hug, and they remained cuddled up with each other on the couch, sharing and listening to each other's thoughts.

Richard didn't offer her words of pity for what she had gone through like most people had done for her. Instead, he told her something else entirely. He described his impression of her, back when they first met each other. And it's not that she's beautiful. Not that she's smart. Not that she's sweet. None of that.

He couldn't quite explain how, but what struck him the most that night was her spirit. He hadn't met anyone who exhibited as much paradox as she did that night. Open, but mysterious in all the right ways. Strong, but yielding when the situation called for it. Confident, but hesitant to lay it all out on the table.Then, he told her further that over the course of their friendship, he began to recognize these complexities as that of a woman who understands herself. Someone who knows what she wants, yet respects her limits. There had been no question in his mind that Callee is a woman, regardless of what her driver's license says.

In hindsight, she believes that is the pivotal moment in their relationship. She had realised then that she would do anything to keep this man in her life. Friends, lovers or soulmates, she couldn't bring herself to care as long as she could be with him—though it also made her wonder if anyone else could make her feel like the most wonderful person in the world. At a loss for words, Callee just tightened her hold of him, burying herself deeper into the bend of his neck. She had just entrusted him with her secrets and insecurities, and never had she felt more safe and secure than that night. They fell asleep soon after that, wrapped around each other, fitted together in the most perfect way.

Their succeeding sleepovers on each other's beds hadn't been as emotionally charged as that one. They would cuddle up for movie nights—complete with popcorn, soda and snarky commentary—or if either of them is just being touchy-feely about all sorts of things. Like when their favorite gift shop had been foreclosed last week. Or whenever Callee's hormone shots are making her act all weird and crazy. Truth be told, any reason is acceptable and neither of them minds this setup at all. 

Pushing the door open, she steps into Richard's room, which is nearly pitch black save for the line of light streaming through the gap between his curtains. Thankfully, she has been in here enough times to locate the bed without stumbling into anything and hurting her toes. She pats the mattress until she finds his sleeping form and then the edge of the duvet, under which she slips in.

Richard groans. "Callee?" He turns his head to the side, peeking through his half-opened eyes to look at her. "What're you—"

"I'm taking over your bed until you get me that milk for my coffee." 

Her words draw a sleepy chuckle—thick like honey—from him. He rubs a hand over his face and through his hair, looking terribly amused and not the least bit repentant.

"Let me get this straight. You thought the best way to get me _out_ of the bed was to get _in_ my bed?" he points out as he snuggles up to her, pressing his nose to the crown of her head. "You didn't think this through, did you?" 

"Shut up," Callee snaps back, unable to suppress a grin from the silliness of her actions. She feels his chest rumble with another sleepy laugh when she throws an arm over him to pull herself closer.

"Let's sleep some more. I'll go later." 

"You better, mister." She closes her eyes, breathing in his familiar scent that soothes and relaxes her further.

"Is this my cardigan?" he asks as his fingers trace patterns on her back.

"Mmhm." 

"Bet you stretched out the sleeves again."

"Don't leave it lying around then, if you hate it so much."

"How cheeky," he mutters while squeezing her tighter in his arms.

Callee grins again, knowing that he is not really displeased with her. "You love it though," she mumbles dopily to his neck.

This time, there is no reply from him. Not a single word. Instead, she feels him press his lips to her hair, so softly that it may just be her imagination. She waits for a few more seconds, but all she hears is the sound of his breathing, gentle and even. So, with a wistful smile, she decides to let it go and just drift back to sleep once more.


	2. Richard

Two hours after his roommate had joined him on his bed, Richard wakes up again with an armful of the softest, loveliest cuddle bug he has ever known.  During moments like this, he has to remind himself that he needs to breathe and stop staring at her because this thing between them, it's not doing wonders to his mental health. His mind tells him that she is just a woman—no one special—but his heart always seems to disagree.

Fourteen months have passed since he had first met Callee, and Richard has not expected that it would be this complicated. During the first few months of knowing her, he figured that they could take it slow and discover each other, piece by piece, until it just made sense that they should become a couple. Of course, he was aware of her relationship with Barry then. But, the guy has been out of the picture for some time now, and yet they still remain to be nothing more than close friends at the very least.

When Callee turned him down that night, Richard thinks that he could have run away—should've run away—but he didn't. He had decided to wait instead. Wait while they built a strong bond between them. Wait while she pulled him close, only to push him back again. He has waited with every passing week, pondering about the gray areas of being more than friends but less than a couple.

Richard has tried talking himself out of waiting for her because he couldn't eliminate that possibility where she wouldn't ever be on the same page as he is. However, he has also realized that he has been waiting for her without being asked and without being discouraged, too. And so with these thoughts, the complexity of their relationship grew, day after day, nourished by the belief that at least, they haven't given up on the idea of _them_.

Thinking about their relationship, complicated is the word that springs to mind, and it looks like a friendship that no one can define. Not even themselves. It looks like patience, not just with their situation, but with one another as they figure things out on their own. It looks lonely and frustrating, but it never ceases to amaze him how with one simple glance, they could share an intimacy that is greater than sex. It would've been all so perfect, if only timing was on their side at the beginning.

Carefully extracting himself from their embrace, Richard shakes off his mind these intrusive thoughts and decides to just get on with the day, starting with that milk for Callee. He stops by the bathroom for a quick shower, freezing his arse off in the process because he is too stingy to use their water heater. She can just use his share, he convinces himself, believing that it would all be worth it when they have saved up enough money for their trip to New Zealand. Skydiving, zip lines and all the nature hikes that they have always wanted to do.

After drying himself up, he puts on a well-worn black T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans, his customary outfit to almost anywhere he goes. Resembling a clothing store's display, his closet is lined with several sets of this particular combination, varying only in terms of the number of holes, tears and stains gained through extended and repeated usage. It's not that he is a big slob, but he gets a peace of mind from following this pattern day in and day out, something that his usually overcrowded brain needs most of the time.

Checking his Twitter feed on his way out, he feels his cheeks heat up—in embarrassment or excitement, he isn't sure—from reading Callee's post and the subsequent replies it got from their friends. He tries to go over each quickly, but he cannot stop himself from obsessing over that word, 'honeymoon'.

"If only," he mutters under his breath, putting off his reply until he could come up with something witty or lucid or even just reasonable because he feels like his mind has short-circuited at some point.

Head still somewhere up in the clouds, he briskly opens the door, allowing a gust of cold air to sweep in. He steps back inside the flat, and as he puts on the blue hoodie hanging on the coat rack, he wonders again about the real owner of this jacket. Both of them use it from time to time, and after a wash, they would just put it back on the rack without so much as a blink. Shrugging his shoulders, he layers the hoodie over his shirt, concluding that the answer really doesn't matter. He actually likes sharing clothes with Callee, contrary to his stupid protests about the brown cardigan.

There is a weekend sale at the shop, so Richard ends up buying their week's worth of groceries instead of just the milk that he had promised to Callee. When he gets back to their flat, she is already back in her bedroom, putting on makeup while softly singing along with some pop music playing in the background. Bit early for that, he observes, making him wonder if she has anywhere to go or if she just feels like covering up the dark bags under her eyes.

"How are the essays going?" he inquires as he steps inside the room. 

"All done, and in time for your weird-ass holiday." She dabs a finger around her eyes to blend in the concealer, thereby confirming his second theory. "Where's my milk?"

"In the kitchen, Your Highness," Richard mocks lightheartedly. "Got you something else though." He dashes off and comes back as quickly as he could with a tall cup of latte, topped with extra foam and a surprise for her. "Here you go," he offers, trying hard not to spill any of it in his enthusiasm.

Taking the cup from him, Callee smiles brightly upon seeing the latte art he had requested from the barista. 'Sorry' it says in a flowing, cursive font, set beside a drawing of a single long-stemmed rose. She lifts her gaze to him, eyes shining with delight over his attempt to apologize again for his oversight. That, by itself, is worth all the additional effort he had done to bring home the latte in its perfect state. 

"Should've been a yellow rose, but it couldn't be done without ruining the flavor. Or so says the barista. Anyway…are we now back to our honeymoon phase?" He tries not to sound so hopeful, but even to his ears, he knows that he has utterly failed.

Callee rolls her eyes at him, but blushes nonetheless from the question. "You've read my tweet." She then takes a small sip of her beverage, probably finding it hard to resist its sweet yet full-bodied aroma. "Mmm, this is gorgeous. You're absolutely forgiven. What flavor is this?"

"That's a double-shot, non-fat, extra sugar, vanilla, raspberry, extra-foam, light-syrup, extra-hot latte." 

"Oh, you're just messing with me." 

Richard shakes his head. "Voted as the best latte flavor. It's even written on their menu board. Can't argue with all those coffee addicts."

"Well, they're totally right. C'mon, take a quick photo of the art. I think I wanna gulp this right now in one go."

Richard does as he was told, but he snaps a stolen shot of her as well, drinking the latte with her eyes closed as if savoring the flavor.

She hums with satisfaction again before setting the cup down on her vanity table to pick up a brush . "Thanks, but you really didn't have to, y'know. These are so overpriced."

He just shrugs his shoulders back at her, convinced that those extra dollars have been well-spent, given the reaction he got from her.

Turning back to the mirror, Callee examines her handiwork for anything to improve, biting her lower lip as she usually does while concentrating. With nothing else to do, he quietly watches her as he leans against the door frame, hands in his pockets. 

Callee dabs a large brush in powder, sending loose particles dancing in a ray of sunlight. The dry smell of cosmetics tickles his nose, but he just blissfully ignores it. She sweeps the brush across her lovely cheeks, and then some more to her forehead and chin. She is talking all through this, but he suddenly loses track of what she is saying when a wisp of hair gets loose from her ponytail. Fanning down the side of her face, the sight makes his fingers itch to tuck it behind her ear.

He doesn't act on it though.

The thing with Callee is that she brands physical contact differently from him or anyone else for that matter. During the course of getting to know her, Richard has developed his personal guide from their shared moments, cataloging each one in his mind into neat little boxes: friendly, romantic, familial and comforting types of touches.

He has learned his lesson when they first met—her smile had been blinding and her warm eyes had melted him into a puddle of enchanted mush. She had let him hold her in his arms, and she didn't pull away when he wrapped her hands with his own to keep her warm. He assumed—well, he had assumed wrong—and she turned him down in the end. So, he has learned to be careful since then and decided to be more observant of her behavior to keep it from happening again.

Sleeping on the same bed falls to either the friendly or comforting category, depending on how they feel at the moment. No matter how close they cuddle up to each other, Callee probably thinks of him as her personal hot water bottle or a teddy bear, even. Not that he is complaining about being a source of comfort to her. He just wishes that there is more to it than platonic snuggling.

Giving each other a massage after a long, stressful day belongs to the familial category. She knows how to give a Swedish massage that could get him humming from contentment. They have joked before that if her medical career doesn't pan out, she could be a professional masseuse instead. Richard would be her only client though because he refuses to share her talented hands to anyone else. Callee had laughed it off as just a part of his joke, but he had meant it, possessive as that may sound.

It is the little touches, however, that have proven to be the trickiest to catalog. These are the ones that betray his affections the most, and to keep their relationship the way she wants it to be, he has flagged them as off-limits, for the time being at the very least. Keeping his hand on the small of her back, caressing the nape of her neck while watching a movie, reaching out for her hand during dinner, these are the romantic touches for her. Innocuous, yet meaningful.

He would know if he had overstepped the line when her cheeks redden and her gaze falters, as if shying away from moments that could lead to something else. It doesn't make sense to him sometimes, how she makes up her mind about this kind of things, but if she feels uncomfortable with a gesture, there is no way he would subject her to it again.

"Dean called when you were out," she says, interrupting his thoughts. 

"Yeah?"

"Chatted for a bit. Then, he asked me to remind you of your tutorials tomorrow morning."

"Not tomorrow. On Sunday. 

"Tomorrow is Sunday," she clarifies, rolling her eyes at him through the reflection of her mirror. Shaking her head, she sets down her brush and walks toward him, joining him by the doorway of her room. "You've been distracted more than usual," she comments as she takes hold of the bottom hem of his t-shirt, tugging it down gently as if trying to keep him in place.

"No, I haven't." 

"What about the milk?"

"You're just cherry-picking. Honestly, I've never been better. There's just a lot of stuff going on, and some things just naturally slip my mind."

Callee remains unconvinced, judging from the look on her face, and when she tilts her head to the side, that wisp of hair falls in front of her eyes. The itch on his fingers grows stronger as well as the one on his lips. Forehead kisses, friendly or romantic? He can't catalog this rationally at the moment, not when his heart is louder than his brain. This could easily turn into a disaster as those little boxes in his head shuffle around, toppling themselves into one big mess.

Richard kisses the tip of her nose instead, quick and light. Unexpectedly, she giggles softly and takes a step forward, still holding on to the bottom of his shirt. It's all too much for him, and so, without meaning to, his fingers move to her forehead, along her temple and behind her ear, tucking away the loose strands of her hair.

 _Shit._  

"I better get on with my lesson plan," he blurts out, observing the redness spread across Callee's cheeks.

She gapes at him briefly with her brows furrowed, probably confused about his sudden shift back to the tutorials. He babbles on about the topics he wants to cover as she steps away from him and goes back to her vanity table.

"Tutoring's taking off then," she comments while intently searching for something in the top drawer. "This is your sixth student already, and you just started last month."

"Yeah, I suppose. I'll let you get back to your uh…" He makes a vague gesture over his face before making a quick exit. That went well, he chides himself as he heads to his room to pick up his laptop.

Willing his heart to slow down, Richard seeks refuge on their couch—a hand-me-down from Callee's parents, too big for the room but perfect for hanging out with their friends. He tries to distract himself with whatever obscure subject that catches his fancy, googling random bits of trivia that he could post to Twitter later. 

Half an hour pass before he hears Callee emerging from her room. She takes the left corner of the couch as usual, her preferred spot, curling up her legs underneath her. Turning on the telly, she flicks through the channels as she sips her overpriced caffeinated drink. He sneaks a glance at her, wondering how to break the awkward air between them.

"What do you want for lunch?"

"I'm actually going out with Evie today," she answers absentmindedly. 

Richard's stomach falls at the thought that she might be avoiding him.

"Then, I'm meeting Barry for dinner," she says like it's an afterthought. 

This time, he feels his insides twist in unpleasant surprise. "Barry? Barry Winston? Didn't know you're back together again." 

"It's Winchell," she corrects him before giving up on her channel surfing. "And it's not like we've officially broken up. We're just on a break. I'm pretty sure I've told you this before."  
  
She most probably did, but his brain had conveniently but deviously omitted the 'on' part of that news. Things are falling into place now that he thinks about it. Her continued hesitance with him, the palpable distance between them, their moments together that never turn into anything more than friendship.

Chewing on the lid of the paper cup, Callee stares at him as if studying his reaction. "He's one of my oldest friends, y'know. Dating or not, I'd like to know how he's doing."

She doesn't owe him an explanation, and he doesn't want to hear the details of her on-and-off relationship with Barry. So, Richard just nods his head in acknowledgment and turns his attention back to his laptop. He had met the guy once when he visited Callee at The Prancing Pony, back when he hadn't moved in with her yet. He had observed them from afar, and it burned his heart to see her laughing at her boyfriend's stupid jokes. Her smiles had been beautiful still, but it hurt like hell knowing that he's not the reason for them. 

This is when it finally hits him. His relationship with Callee is like this rubber band that they keep pulling to different directions, testing its strength and elasticity for no apparent reason—well, at least to him. This could go on until it reaches its natural breaking point or until someone lets go, inadvertently hurting the one who has decided to hold on. And by the looks of it, there is no doubt in his mind that it would be him who would be left hurting when this all ends like that.

Of course, Richard could let go and save himself from the mess of dealing with a completely shattered heart, but then again, he has always been stubborn to a fault. Sometimes, he would get this feeling that he is never going to get what he wanted, and instead of letting this push him to tap out, it would just make him fight for just a little bit more. So, yeah. This might end with his heart in pieces, but at least he could say that he never gave up on her.

Her mobile rings, pulling him back to reality. It's Evie, and apparently, it is time for Callee to leave already.

"Say hi to Evie for me," he says as she puts on her shoes.

Callee murmurs something under her breath that he didn't quite catch.

"Hmm?"

"It's nothing. Don't forget to eat, alright?"

"Sure." There must be something in the way he said it because Callee scrunches up her face in worry for him. 

"I hate leaving you like this, but Evie's gonna kill me if I'm late for her thing. Talk about it later?"

Richard forces out a grin to appease her. "You're such a worrywart. Told you I'm fine. Really fine. In fact, I might go out for a run today." 

"You're overselling it, but _fine_. See ya later, grumpypants." She pats him on the head, running her fingers through his hair, before taking off.

He sits still for a moment, staring at the door as he thinks and overthinks everything that has happened this morning. Setting aside his laptop, he decides to take on his idea and change into his running gear. He needs some fresh air anyway to clear his mind and perhaps even gain a new perspective.

By nightfall, Richard has accomplished three things that have somewhat alleviated his sullen mood. First, he has actually set a record today—going 3 kilometers over his average distance covered in a single run. He hadn't stopped until his legs burned and the sun was harshly beating down his back. It was rejuvenating, yet punishing—just what he needed to sort things out in his head again.

When he got back in their flat, he finally posted his reply to Callee's tweet, which has already gained enough favorites and retweets for it to be featured on their next episode. His post isn't as witty as he wanted it to be, but he hopes that the photo of the latte art would make up for it.

 

 **Richard Armitage** @RCArmitage

 **. @calpernia @BrainOnFire Apologies are best served hot and foamy. #TheCoffeeAcademy #DOTD #EverythingYouThinkIsWrongDay**  
2:26 PM · 15 Mar 14

 

After taking his second shower for the day, he had began working on his lesson plan for tomorrow—tweeting some random trivia using their group account whenever he got bored—and before he knew it, he has managed to produce a satisfactory program, complete with practice tests and handouts. Tutoring isn't that bad, but he is only doing it to raise more money for their trip. Being this well-prepared hasn't happened before, so he feels strangely proud over this feat.

He is about to order pizza for dinner when he hears the door unlock. Callee steps inside and beams at him when she spots him by the kitchen counter.

"Didn't expect you to be back this early." He sets down the leaflet on his hand to help her with the paper bags she has brought home with her.

"Barry has to cancel at the last minute. Something about his shitty CO or whatever he does these days. It doesn't matter, really," she explains in a nonchalant manner, though her tone betrays how upset she really is. Richard knows how much she hates getting stood up by anyone for any reason other than life-or-death emergencies.

"Hope you haven't ordered yet 'cause I got us some Chinese."

"You're actually just in time." He peeks inside the bag, spotting boxes of dim sums and about half a dozen meat buns. "Are we expecting company?"

"Nah, just got a hankering for meat buns, so I ended up buying a lot." Throwing her jacket and scarf on the couch, she joins him in the kitchen and fills their electric kettle with water. "I think it's going to snow tonight. Wanna have a picnic on the rooftop while waiting for it?"

Richard agrees readily, and they make a thermos of chai tea before heading to the rooftop along with their dinner and a thick tartan blanket. Technically, they are not allowed up here, but he knows a thing or two about lock picking.

They select a spot that is sheltered from the wind and huddle for warmth under the blanket. When she pours the tea, the spicy scent of ginger and cardamom mingles with the icy smell that announces the imminent arrival of the snow. They unpack their dinner, and Callee immediately goes for a meat bun. 

"I've been craving for this since Aidan got us some," she says in between bites. "How's your day?"

Filling themselves with tea and Chinese food, they exchange stories about how their respective days had gone until the snowflakes start drifting down slowly from the clouds above. One of them lands on the tip of her nose, and he chuckles when she crosses her eyes to look at it. "You're such a kid." 

Giggling beside him, Callee wipes off the wet spot left by the melted snowflake. "You kissed my nose earlier," she says, catching him off-guard. 

"Uh, yeah. Did you mind?" he asks, fidgeting with the blanket in nervous anticipation.

"Nope."

They stare into each other's eyes for a moment before Callee reaches out a hand to his face and wipes away the crumbs sticking to the side of his mouth.

"There, better." 

"Thanks." 

Callee smiles and her green eyes warm him up better than the blanket and tea combined. She then turns her attention to the skies, but he doesn't follow suit. Instead, he watches her from the corner of his eye, feeling jealous of the snowflakes that get to touch her skin so freely. He sighs as he remembers his realizations during the run. Well, they aren't realizations so much as reminders that he can't lose what he has never had and that he can't hold onto someone who doesn't want to stay. 

Richard cannot recall if there had been any signs when they first met, cautioning him to take a step back and think for a moment. All he can remember is this feeling, this thing that he still cannot explain. Beneath the stars, sitting down on a bench, he had found something extraordinary in her, and it has been complicated ever since. They would take two steps forward and one step back, and perhaps his only saving grace from this endurance test are the brief moments when he could pretend that she has finally chosen him. 

Lost in these thoughts, it doesn't register immediately that Callee has moved closer to rest her head against his shoulder. With a slow, fond grin, Richard wraps an arm around her, pulling her even closer. He becomes rather smug then because unlike the snowflakes, he is not physically melting away from their touch. On a night like this, he can relish the warmth that she shares with him, and unlike everything else in their relationship, there is nothing complicated about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are welcome and appreciated. Next installment will be up by tomorrow. See you :)


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